


time flies when you're having fun (time flies when you're not alone)

by pseudoanalytics



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Actually Married, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Drug Withdrawal, Group dynamics, M/M, More Medbay Antics, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recovery, and they're a main pairing, baze and chirrut are married, not just in the background, the empire pumped bodhi up with weird shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 17:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9196745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudoanalytics/pseuds/pseudoanalytics
Summary: Entering the medbay feels like coming home, or maybe it's just because they're all there. Jyn thinks this might be what a family feels like.---After suffering the least amount of injuries on Scarif, Jyn watches the others heal and recover.This is Baze/Chirrut and developing Cassian/Bodhi from her outside perspective.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i like watching pairings from the eyes of others oops
> 
> this fic is also my ode to the frustration of trying to get any information out of medical personnel ever
> 
> *blows a kiss to the sky* that's for chirrut imwe
> 
> *blows a second kiss* and that's for bodhi rook

Jyn is the first to wake up. This isn’t entirely factual, considering she was never unconscious to begin with, but she’s still the first one awake and cognizant.

She remembers the incoming shockwave, death approaching her and Cassian. She remembers the hum of an engine, barely audible over the din. She remembers being scooped up, like astromechs in a way, into the small spacecraft. Once the Alliance ships make the jump into hyperspace, someone comes to tend to them. Jyn’s barely hurt. She’s sprained her leg pretty badly, but it’s nothing compared to Cassian. His leg is fractured, he’s most likely concussed, and the bruising along his spinal column is already a horrible shade of inky black. The gunner who comes to pull them into the body of the ship tries to keep Cassian from dropping unconscious, but he’s doing a shit job, so Jyn pushes him aside and grabs Cassian’s face, ordering him to stay awake. He struggles but obeys. 

When they land on Yavin IV, Jyn is embarrassed to admit how much she fights and screams when medics separate her from Cassian. She probably would have taken someone out if she hadn’t noticed Baze being carried away on another stretcher. The sight makes her freeze, lost in thought. She’s forgotten about the others. She’s not used to there _being_ others. 

“Where are they all? Did you find Chirrut and Bodhi? Are they okay?” She lunges for the nearest passerby. “Please! Tell me! Tell me anything!” The medic she’s harassing looks frightened but pushes her down onto a medbay bed anyway. They strap her in, wrists and torso, before she can protest, and all she wants to know is if they’re even _here,_ let alone if they’re _alive._ But no one gives her a straight answer.

They wheel her bed into a plain, white room. It’s mostly empty, save three small side tables and a sink. There’s a low window on the back wall. She hopes they put her by it.

They don’t.

Her bed is parked on the opposite side, near the door. The sink is an arm’s length away, or it would be if she wasn’t restrained.

The medic begins to apply bacta to Jyn’s myriad of scrapes and cuts. Her clothes are taken or cut off to reach every injury, but she’s given a thin hospital gown to wear instead. She doesn’t like it. She feels exposed. 

The medic hesitates over her injured knee and settles for wrapping it in a large bacta patch. The gel feels warm, and the relief begins almost instantaneously. Finished, they tell her to press the button near her hand if she needs anything. Jyn tries one last time to beg for information, but the door slides shut and audibly locks, and she’s alone.

It takes less than three minutes for her to wriggle out of her bonds and slide out of bed. She makes her way to the window, the one point of interest in the room. Outside is the external flight deck. It’s actually a gorgeous view. The jungles of Yavin IV are visible in the distance, emerald green and swaying, but the people and spacecraft steal the show. On the ground, they land X-wings and Y-wings, and ships she’s never even seen before. Pilots swarm the landing pads, embracing one another with joy or sadness visible in their posture. Technicians bustle around, datapads visible by their bright blue glow. Droids race in circles, tailing their pilots faithfully. Jyn can almost hear them.

She can’t _really_ of course; the glass is super-reinforced. Soundproof. But she can still imagine it in her head. Several hours pass, and she spends them watching the flight deck clear until it’s only ships, and all the people have gone inside for celebration, mourning, and debriefs.

The only warning before the doors open is a sharp beep from the scanner outside. The medic walks back in, looking completely unsurprised that Jyn is out of bed.

They beckon her over, and she childishly considers ignoring them just to prove a point, but in the end, Jyn gives in and sits obediently on the bed. Her bacta is reapplied, and her patch is changed, but for the most part, she feels perfectly healthy. She wonders if they’ll discharge her and asks as much. The medic informs her that she is to stay overnight, and Jyn decides arguing is futile and petty.

Evening comes soon after, and she’s so tired from the past few days that she drops right off to a dreamless sleep.

When Jyn wakes, it’s with violent shakes. The medic has come in and is standing opposite her bed, back turned. She doesn’t recognize her surroundings at first, startled by the sterile environment and wide, white walls. Someone’s strapped her back in during the night, which is fortunate, because her first goal is to get up and start swinging.

The medic turns around at the whining growl Jyn makes, and the movement reveals what she had been tending to prior in the bed across the way.

Cassian has a bacta patch on his forehead, right over his eyes, which are still shut. He looks younger like this, no stress or tension on his face to age him. He’s hooked to a number of IV’s and a small monitor. His chest rises and falls softly under his own hospital gown.

He’s breathing.

He’s alive.

Jyn wishes the medic would leave, but since they don’t, she feigns disinterest in her new roommate, choosing to wriggle her hands free and pick at dirt under her nails instead. She ends up dozing off again, and when she wakes, she’s finally alone with Cassian.

He’s still unconscious, but she squirms out of her torso restraint and moves to his bed. His hair is matted with blood and sweat, and she uses that as the excuse for why she doesn’t run a supportive hand over his head. He’ll be fine. He’s alive. They both are.

Jyn is at the window again, watching pilots work on their ships, when Cassian groans. She turns, trying not to look too eager but forgets all about it when she sees him. He’s sitting up, wincing and holding his back and side. It takes him swinging his uninjured leg out of bed for him to see Jyn.

“Jyn…” he breathes, voice rough.

Her resolve breaks, and she hurries to him. They embrace tightly, both acutely remembering what was happening the first time they'd hugged. Jyn finally has to let go when she can tell it’s hurting his back.

“Jyn. Who else made it out?”

“I don’t know. I tried asking, but no one would tell me anything. I saw Baze on a stretcher when we landed, but I don’t know if he was—” she shrugs “—alive.”

Cassian nods, then looks ill. One hand flies out to steady himself on Jyn, and the other grips his head as he cringes again. “Concussion,” he grits out, and she eases him back down against his pillows.

The external scanner beeps before the door opens, the medic having been informed by the equipment that Cassian was awake. They start fussing over him right away, changing his IV bag and checking his vitals. When they’ve finished they turn to Jyn.

“Would you please step outside for a second?”

“Why?” Jyn and Cassian ask at the same time.

“Please wait outside,” the medic repeats, and Jyn makes sure to glare as she leaves.

Their room is at the end of a hallway, so there’s no one rushing around like there is further down. She bites at her nails and waits.

The door finally opens to allow her back in. Cassian nods at her as she returns to her bed, but the medic addresses her.

“You’ve being discharged today.” They pass her standard issue khakis, and Cassian politely closes his eyes as Jyn shamelessly starts changing. “We don’t have any private quarters prepared for you, but there are several people who have offered to share for the time being.”

“I want to stay here,” Jyn says. She instantly regrets it. What kind of request is that? They probably need this room for all the sick and injured.

But surprisingly, the medic agrees. “Very well. I’ll add your thumbprint to the scanner. Don’t abuse this privilege.”

Jyn’s honestly shocked they consented so easily, but she registers into the door lock, and the medic finally leaves again. She immediately rounds on Cassian.

“Why did they make me step out?” It sounds more accusatory than she means.

“The Alliance is almost excessively private in regards to medical information. It was nothing of interest anyway. I have a concussion, heavy bruising, and a leg fracture. Our bacta tanks are all full, so I’ll have to tough it out on patches and patience.”

Jyn nods.

There’s silence, and then Cassian speaks again. “Why are you staying? You know I’m fine here alone, right?”

It’s not him. _She’s_ not fine being out there alone, but she can’t say as much. “I’m not staying for _you._ I just don’t make friends very well, and I’d prefer sharing a room with you than a stranger.” It’s a bit more transparent than she’d intended, but they’ve been through enough together for her to let down some of her walls.

Cassian is good with strangers. Or maybe he just knows everyone on the base. He’s on great terms with the medic, and he even convinces them to have some items brought to the room to occupy him.

Jyn sits and stares out the window mostly, but when Cassian gets a datapad and a small metal box about the size of his head, she starts watching him instead. It takes four days, more than half their week long stay, for her to ask what he’s doing.

“I’m not a complete fool. I have K-2SO designed to send backups of his hard drives to an external satellite. I can only hope this last copy he’s sent is recent, so I can restore from it without too much missing data.” He pauses to squint at his datapad. “It’s unlikely that we’ll find another Imperial droid shell anytime soon, so I’m rewriting his code to put his consciousness into this computer box for now.”

She nods and raises an eyebrow. “And… you can do all that?”

Cassian laughs lightly. “Who do you think reprogrammed him the first time?”

Restoring K-2 is still a long and laborious process, made more difficult by the fact that Cassian can only work for so long before his headache intensifies and the vertigo returns tenfold.

He’s resting his eyes as Jyn sits on the foot of his bed, fingers drumming on the metal box. The room is silent until the door opens, admitting a whole team of medics for once. They wheel a bed in, parking it two spots over from Jyn, against the window. It’s Baze.

He’s less recognizable, what with half his head shaved. It’s an odd look, but so is seeing him here at all, dressed in a thin, off-white gown. He’s unconscious, but unlike Cassian, pain is still evident on his face. His forehead is wrinkled into a scowl, but medics cover it with bacta patches, and Jyn realizes the pink pallor to his skin is a healing burn. She wonders what happened to him.

Cassian and Jyn both watch the team strap him into the bed tightly, careful to double fasten each arm and leg.

“Raising tranquilizers now,” says the head nurse, adjusting an IV drip.

Baze’s face is barely visible under the bacta, but it’s obvious when he’s fully awake, because he starts yanking at his fastenings and demanding to know where Chirrut is.

The medics ignore him, until Cassian grows angry and shouts at them as well. “Hey! The man is asking a question. He’s clearly distressed!”

The head nurse shakes her head. “We aren’t authorized to release medical information to anyone but relations. I’m sorry.”

Baze growls and shoots a hesitant glance in Jyn and Cassian’s direction. “I have every right to know about Chirrut. He’s my husband. I’m the only relation he has.” The medics look startled. “We were married on Jedha. The official documents must have been shared with the Council. Look it up. _Tell me how he is._ Is he alive?”

“We’ll have to— to verify your claim,” the head nurse stutters. “But if it can be confirmed, I’ll have someone bring you a transcript of his diagnostics.”

Baze looks like he’s about to start shouting, but Cassian is already using his datapad to access government records of marital unions on Jedha. The capital may be gone, but its data remains accessible.

“Chirrut Îmwe and Baze Malbus. Married thirty-four years ago,” Cassian says in hushed awe. He passes the datapad to the head nurse, who stares at it in disbelief.

“I’ll have someone get you a readout on his condition.” She sends a medic away to do just that. Contented, Baze behaves better, barely fighting the remaining professionals’ attentions.

When the room is empty again, Jyn can’t help herself. “You’re married?”

“Yes.”

“You never mentioned it.”

“We don’t flaunt it.”

He closes his eyes. The conversation is over.

Cassian chuckles and turns back to his work. Jyn can’t sit at her spot at the window now that Baze’s bed is blocking it, so she moves to the other side instead, further down from Cassian. The new angle lets her see more of the jungle. She doesn’t like it as much as the flight deck.

Eventually the medic returns to give Baze a paper printout. He can’t grab it since he’s still strapped down, so they hold it in front of his face for him to read. Instead of telling them he’s done, Baze goes back to sleep, and by the time they realize, they’ve been dangling the paper for several minutes too long. With a scoff the medic folds it and drops it on the bedside table, changing Cassian’s bacta before leaving again. The lock clicks shut, and Jyn remembers with a start that she can leave. She doesn’t need to subsist off medbay nutrition packs. She can explore the base. Find something to eat.

“I’m going to find food. Any requests?”

“The mess hall is on the other side of the compound,” Cassian says without looking up from his work. “I’ll take anything with flavor.”

“Use your own judgement,” requests Baze.

Jyn nods to each of them and leaves in search of the mess. She stumbles through the medbay unscathed, but the base itself proves to be more of a challenge. Loud chatter greets her as she walks the halls. People run up and congratulate her, clap her on the back. She’s overwhelmed and returns each compliment or word of adulation with an inquiry on the location of the cafeteria.

Once she actually enters the mess hall, the thunderous roar of applause startles her. She’s used to her presence summoning boos or even violent attacks, but never this. Never a positive response. 

In the end, she can’t get in line for food. She turns and heads back to the medbay, and she’ll never admit that she sprinted part of the way, but that’s absolutely what she does.

When she scans her thumb and returns to the safety of the medbay, Cassian and Baze quickly stop talking and turn towards her. Baze has been freed from his restraints, and he looks almost nervous, sitting there, tapping his fingers against his mattress.

“I couldn’t get any food.”

Cassian frowns. “Were you not able to find the mess hall?”

“No, I found it. I just… couldn’t.”

Baze looks up at her from under heavy brows. There’s understanding in his eyes. “I imagine we’re what, heroes now?”

Cassian jolts in his bed, then winces and holds his back. “Heroes? Oh. I suppose. I never considered it.”

“Well, they think we are,” Jyn grumbles.

Baze actually laughs and lays back against his pillows once more. “Heroes. That’s a new feeling for all of us.”

“Not Cassian, I’ll bet. _Captain_ Cassian Andor.”

There’s a smack as he sets his datapad down harshly against the metal box. “No. I’m not a hero. There are no heroes. Not in any war. Any victory comes with sacrifice. The only real heroes are those who give their lives.”

“I’m sure they found him,” Baze says softly.

“Who?” asks Jyn.

Cassian is glaring down at his work, tapping his screen a bit too firmly.

“The pilot,” Baze replies.

“Bodhi?” Jyn looks back and forth between them. “Is he here?”

“We don’t know,” snaps Cassian, tapping growing more vigorous. “And no one here is fortunate enough to be married or related to him, so we can’t find out.”

“Surely they’d have to tell us if he was even here? That has nothing to do with medical information. If he’s here, and if he’s alive… Can’t they at least tell us that? 

“How _is_ Chirrut, anyway?” Cassian obviously changes the subject, and Jyn narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“He’ll be okay. They had to resuscitate him after pickup, but he’s doing fine now. Gut wound is healing. Moderate burns. He should be moved here sometime today.”

“Burns?” Jyn asks. “What happened to you two?”

Baze grunts. “He found the master switch to help the pilot reach the comms tower. Got shot. We both were caught in a grenade blast. Nothing much.”

“And I thought my injuries were dramatic,” Cassian mutters.

“Hey,” snaps Jyn, “falling from a data tower and hitting every support beam on the way down is plenty dramatic.”

“I’d say ‘dramatic’ is being unable to retrieve food because of adoring fans,” Baze adds. He looks a little smug when Jyn’s fists clench at her sides.

The door opens before the argument can escalate, and a new bed is wheeled in. Chirrut is sitting upright with near perfect posture. He’s smiling and waves hello to them all. 

“Captain Andor. Jyn. Baze.” His smile grows at his partner’s name. “How have you been, my friends?”

“We’ve getting there,” Cassian says, a little disbelieving.

“Good, good. I’m glad to hear it.”

The medics park his bed between Jyn and Baze, leaving Cassian to look a little lonely against the opposite wall.

Jyn notices with some jealousy that Chirrut’s bed has no restraints on it.

Baze and Chirrut reach out at the same time and grab one another’s hands. “Baze, I told you. All things are as the Force wills it, and It decided it was not yet our time to die.”

“How’s your injury?” asks Baze, ignoring the comment.

“Ah. It’s not the most comfortable. But the healers have wrapped it well since they pulled me from the warmth.”

“Oh, you were in one of our bacta tanks,” Cassian says, eyebrows raised. “Did you happen to see— do you know who else was in them?”

Chirrut tilts his head in a manner that implies he’s analyzing the words. “Are you looking for someone, Captain?”

“He’s looking for the pilot,” Baze answers.

“Ah yes, the pilot. Bodhi Rook.”

“Do you know if he’s here?” Cassian’s voice betrays how frantic he is under his calm facade.

“No, I do not. Have you considered asking?”

“No one will tell us _anything_ around here,” Jyn curses. “The Alliance likes to keep all information under lock and key it seems.”

“You know,” Baze says, “I was also in a tank. I couldn’t tell who else was there. Too opaque.”

Cassian runs a hand through his hair and frowns at the texture. He needs a shower. Jyn does too. The others seem fairly clean, due to the bacta, but it has been too long for both of them.

Baze leans out of his bed and straightens the pillows behind Chirrut, who leans stiffly back against them, revealing that his posture is the result of the tight bandaging around his waist. They catch hands again, and Baze runs a thumb across the top of the other’s.

It feels private, the openness to their faces, and Jyn has to look away. She occupies herself by the window again. Tiny people run around outside, and X-wings taxi away for patrols and exercises. She watches for a while until Chirrut points at her with his unoccupied hand.

“What are you doing? What’s so interesting over there?”

“I’m… There’s a window. I’m watching the flight deck.”

“A window.” Chirrut nods and smiles.

“I can see outside too,” Baze says.

“What’s out there?”

“It’s a wide concrete slab. I can see the jungle past it. I see someone. Humanoid. A pilot. Orange jumpsuit. Got a silver droid. Conical shape. Low to the ground. They’re working on their ship. It’s a single seater, light gray with blue highlights.”

Jyn walks back to her bed eventually. She dozes off to the sound of Baze describing outside to Chirrut. As she drops away into exhaustion, she enjoys the peace of Cassian’s consistent tapping, the drone of Baze’s deep, smooth voice, and Chirrut’s occasional hums. She might be able to get used to the idea of there being _others._

As calm as her sleep is, she wakes to pandemonium. Alarms are ringing in the hallway outside, and Cassian is swearing, looking ready to leap out of bed, even if his back is still injured. Chirrut is chanting, hand in hand with Baze, who is seated at the end of his husband’s bed, audibly joining him.

“What’s going on?” Jyn asks.

“Someone’s in critical condition,” says Cassian.

Jyn stands and moves to the door. “I’m going out to peek.”

“Don’t get in anyone’s way." 

“We’re at the end of a hallway. No one will be coming down here.” She scans her thumb and clicks open the door. As if to prove her wrong, a young-looking medic pushes past her in a rush to grab any bacta patches she can get her hands on.

“Who is it?” asks Cassian.

“The Imperial pilot,” the medic gasps, clearly not as tight-lipped as her superiors.

Cassian freezes. He immediately starts struggling out of bed, and the medic panics, telling him to stay still. His back must be on fire, and he’s grunting and grimacing with pain, trying to stand.

“Captain Andor! Please! If you’re so determined to go, at least let me get a wheelchair!”

“Hurry! I don’t care what you have to do. Take me to him!”

The medic struggles to unfold a chair that she pulls from the thin supply cabinet, dropping the bacta in the pocket on the back. She helps ease Cassian into the seat.

Once he’s settled, they speed to the door, but Chirrut calls out to the medic before they can leave. “Hey! Before you go.”

Baze levels a terrifying stare in the poor medic’s direction. “Do _not_ let him die,” he finishes for Chirrut.

The medic nods, harried, and then both she and Cassian are gone. Jyn fights the urge to follow.

“Little sister,” Baze calls. “Come.”

She walks over to Chirrut’s bed, and he scoots to make room for her to sit. They each extend a hand and let her add into their circle.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” chants Chirrut.

“The Force is with me,” Baze whispers.

Jyn listens for a minute, then joins in.

They can only chant so long before Jyn is tired. She cracks an eye and interrupts with a single question to distract them from the alarm. “When were you two married?" 

Chirrut mocks surprise. “We’re married?”

Baze knocks him gently on the head. “How old were we?" 

There’s a fond smile creeping across Chirrut’s face, and he releases hands with the other two, folding them in his lap. “I was eighteen. Young.”

“And I was nineteen.”

“Old.”

“I was only a year older than you.”

“And that one year made all the difference! You’ve always been old. It’s in your character, not your age.” 

Baze scoffs, but he picks up one of Chirrut’s hands again and starts tracing callouses and creases on the palm. “We were both young. Everyone said we were _too_ young.” 

Chirrut lets out a puff of air. “Early marriage is not for everyone. But we haven’t fallen apart.”

Jyn sits quietly, content to listen as Baze picks up the thread. “We’ve grown stronger.”

“Captain Andor is young,” says Chirrut after a moment. “As is the pilot. What do their faces say when they’re together, Baze?”

“The Captain grows more open. Years drop off his face. The Imperial looks at peace.”

“They may center one another. Cassian provides structure where Bodhi requires it, and in return he grants him compassion and understanding.” Chirrut winces and holds his abdomen as he tilts back into bed. Baze supports him as he moves.

She can’t sit quietly any longer. “Cassian? And Bodhi? You think they’re serious? We’ve hardly known each other, and we were in the middle of a war—”

“We’re _always_ in the middle of a war,” Baze sighs, looking increasingly weary.

“I’d say it began on a purely physical basis,” Chirrut muses. He’s still shifting in an attempt to get comfortable. “Initial visual attraction. Not a problem for all of us, of course.” There’s a snort from Baze. “But all the same, that first draw. Surface-level. I noticed the possible deepening when we first came to this base, then of course the flight to Scarif.”

“We hardly talked the whole way there!” Jyn protests.

“Yes, but Baze and I were not the only ones covertly holding hands for comfort and support.”

Jyn hadn’t noticed anyone holding hands. She feels shaken, like something was brewing the air without her even noticing.

Chirrut pants softly in his bed, holding his abdomen tightly. Baze stands to fetch painkillers, and the trio sits in silence for another hour.

When Cassian is wheeled back in, his skin has an unhealthy grey tone to it. His face is locked in a vacant expression, and his knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. The medic helps him into bed, mindful of his injured leg, then takes her leave.

“Did he make it?” whispers Jyn, trying not to disturb Baze and Chirrut, asleep together in the latter’s bed.

“He’s going to be okay.”

Jyn picks at a scab on her elbow. “How is he?”

Air escapes Cassian in a rush, and he buries his face in his hands, shaking. “Jyn, he… he’s covered in burns. They shaved his head. He didn’t even look like himself.”

She winces.

“He’s healing. They’ve had him in a bacta tank. That’s not what almost killed him.” Cassian looks up, an almost wild look in his eyes. He slaps the bed furiously, too much energy curled into his limbs. “Stimulants. Suppressors. Fucking drug cocktail in his veins this whole damn time.”

Jyn’s eyes snap to Cassian’s own. “What do you mean?”

“The Empire. Pumped him full of everything they could think of. He must have had enough to sustain him since his defection, but now he’s in the midst of one hell of a withdrawal, seizures and all. We don’t even know what’s been affected by this.”

“Shit,” breathed Jyn. She turns to see Baze’s mouth downturned and Chirrut’s brow creased, the pair evidently woken during Cassian’s initial outburst.

The thought weighs on her mind, even through the night, and her dreams are littered with images of Bodhi obediently shooting up or downing pills, dulling his mind to the horrors of the Empire. She jerks awake mid-afternoon, light streaming in through their window.

Cassian is still intently typing away on his datapad; he looks like he hasn’t slept all night. The two beds next to her are strangely empty.

“Where did they go?” she asks.

“Chirrut’s being looked at. His blaster wound isn’t healing as well as the medics hoped. Baze went along.”

She nods.

“I think… I think I’ll have K-2 up today.”

“Good. I mean, that sounds good. I miss him.”

He lets out a little huffed breath. “You and me both.” 

“Cassian.”

“Hmm?”

“You and Bodhi.”

He sits silently, face giving away nothing, but he’s stopped typing.

She actually gets up. She walks to the foot of his bed.

“What do you want?” he snaps.

“An answer,” Jyn replies, peeved.

“You never asked a question.”

“I did. You ignored it.”

“You said ‘you and Bodhi.’ No question.”

“Pardon me. I meant to _ask_ if there was anything between you and Bodhi.”

“How can I say? We’ve hardly known each other. Jyn, he’s dying in the medbay. How can I even think about that right now?” He slides hands backward through his greasy, matted hair.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes. Jyn really looks at him, takes in his growing beard, dirty hair, and the grime sticking to his skin. She can feel the same grit on herself, and she stands with intention. “I’m going to go ask about cleaning up. We can’t rely on the toilet and this sink forever.”

Cassian nods hazily, returning to his work.

She huffs and heads out to find a medic to ask. She finds one at the entrance to the medbay, and they tell her they’ll reserve two stalls. After thanking them, Jyn heads back to haul Cassian out of bed and help him to the freshers. The warm water trails down her head and back, and she works soap into her scalp with a groan. The blood and dirt swirl away down the drain, lost forever. When she exits, she slips into fresh khakis before hurrying to find Cassian. He’s seated on a bench outside the wing. His face is freshly shaved, and his hair no longer hangs limp and greasy in his face. He’s also dressed in Alliance fatigues, and she can’t help but be relieved that he’s out of the ugly, backless hospital gown.

There’s a brace on his injured leg, no doubt the work of a well-meaning medbay personnel. She helps him up so they can stumble back to the room together. 

Chirrut is back, as is Baze. They’re in their beds again, still holding hands, but Chirrut looks much more comfortable now, less tension in his core, probably due to another bacta soaking.

Cassian immediately returns to his work, so close to being done that he’s inspired to type faster. There’s something comforting about his tapping, and it starts to lull Jyn to sleep, now that she’s clean and cozy. She’s in that hazy, half aware state when a loud start-up tone blares from Cassian’s metal box. 

Baze leaps out of bed, moving to protect Chirrut, but the other man is already up as well, standing on his cot to defend Baze instead. They briefly grapple with one another for the front line, mindful of each other’s injuries. 

Before either one can succeed, K-2SO’s robotic voice fills the room; Cassian is desperately flailing to control the volume.

“This was certainly unexpected,” the droid chimes from the cube. “Not that I had to be retrieved from backup, of course, but rather that you were alive to do so.”

“What’s the last known data input,” inquires Cassian, straight to the point as ever. Still, his face is lit up with unrestrained joy, and even Jyn has to admit she’s missed the damn droid. 

“I clearly recall retrieving a map of the complex from another Imperial unit. The chances of your survival were in the single-digits. Might I request an update on the proceeding events?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I’ll catch you up as soon as I can,” Cassian promised, typing away to make some last minute tweaks.

“I’m afraid I can only retrieve audio input at this time,” K-2SO says, seemingly out of nowhere. Cassian mutters that of course he doesn’t have visuals; he’s a box, but Chirrut seems to understand. 

“It’s not easy, is it, my friend? Well, we’re in the Alliance medbay on Yavin IV. Baze, Jyn, Cassian, and I are all here. The room is fairly nondescript, or so I’m told. There’s a window. If you’re curious what’s outside, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask the others.”

K-2SO pauses, digesting. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a hardship. Baze has been my eyes for many years, and I’m sure he’s not averse to temporarily serving as yours.”

The grunt from Baze’s bed implies that he might not actually want to help, but the fact that it’s Chirrut talking means he will anyway.

The box’s servos whine and whirr as K-2 thinks and processes. “Am I to imply that the pilot did not make it out?”

“His name is Bodhi, and he’s alive,” Cassian says. There’s an exhaustion to his voice, like he’s been repeating this exact sentence to himself frequently in the past few hours. 

Jyn shoots him what she hopes is a sympathetic smile. It’s probably too sharp, but she thinks he will still know what she meant. She wants Bodhi back too; it’s almost a physical pain, somewhere inside her chest, like when she thinks about her mother and father. Caring about others isn’t easy, she’s decided. You stake too much on their happiness and survival. But at the same time, Jyn thinks, watching Cassian and K-2 banter back and forth to Chirrut and Baze’s amusement, if having others feels this good, it just might be worth it. 

She spends some time studying Cassian closely. He seems more alive somehow, with K-2 back at his side. He tells the droid all about the vault and the climb for the files. He talks about scanning and searching for the exact location of the plans, and he even details the way K-2 died. 

K-2SO doesn’t seem too concerned by this. Instead, he seems to zero in on a very specific detail. “You said I held off several squads of stormtroopers. How?” 

Cassian pauses, thinking. “With a blaster, I presume? You returned fire.”

“Did you give me a blaster?”

“No… I assumed you took one from a downed trooper.”

Jyn can’t help herself. “I gave it to you. You needed one. For protection.”

K-2 whirrs so loudly, she’s afraid she’s overloaded him. “I see. Your behavior, Jyn Erso, is continually unexpected.”

“You said the same thing when I gave it to you." 

“At least I’m consistent.”

She smiles, even though he can’t see it. Perhaps it’s _because_ he can’t see it.

With K-2 finished, Cassian’s out of entertainment, so Jyn bums a pack of cards from a medic, and over the next two days, they teach one another the games they’d learned when they were younger. They use wooden tongue depressors as gambling chips, sitting together on Cassian’s bed.

Against the wall, Baze slumps, staring out the window with Chirrut behind him, braiding his remaining hair and lovingly patting his prickly scalp where it’s growing back in after the burns. K-2’s box is on Baze’s lap, and in his calm, gentle voice, he’s dictating what is happening outside, on the flight deck, to his two sightless companions. 

Jyn wins a fistful of tongue depressors, and Cassian shakes his head at his dwindling stack. “This is a terrible day,” he sighs, shuffling the deck. She’s just about to make a snarky retort when the door slides open, and a new bed is wheeled in.

Baze turns halfway with mild curiosity, but Cassian’s jaw drops. It’s hard to see past the huge patches of bacta, and it’s even harder to ignore the shaved head, but the figure on the bed is definitely Bodhi. He has four IV poles following him, and Jyn feels pretty awful just looking at him.

He’d been alone, they’d deduced. Baze and Chirrut had had each other, as had Jyn and Cassian, but Bodhi, he’d been the only one on the ship when the explosion had occurred. Baze had seen the smoke and flames from the beach, though he didn’t know how it had started. “Grenade, probably,” he’d grunted.

Looking at him now, Jyn thinks he was probably correct. The bacta has taken care of most of the superficial burns, but the skin is still fresh and new. Bodhi looks delicate, like he’s held together by bandages and paste. 

His bed is wheeled next to Cassian’s, and if Jyn sees Baze waggle his eyebrows slightly, she’s wise not to mention it.

The medics leave without waking Bodhi, and, albeit with some difficulty, the other four, and K-2, come to huddle around him.

“When he wakes up, you need to talk to him,” Jyn says, snapping Cassian out of his reverie. 

“I know,” he breathes. “But right now, he needs friends, not complications.”

“He has friends,” Chirrut says, still smiling.

They all stand over Bodhi for a while longer, watching the pilot’s eyelids flutter occasionally under the bacta. Cassian frowns at the IV bags, reading the long list of chemicals they contain.

“They’re weaning him off the Empire’s drugs?” Jyn guesses, but they turn out to be pain relievers, healing accelerants, and sedatives instead. 

She sits back by Cassian on his bed, drawing from the previously forgotten stack of cards. “His sedative bag is almost empty. He might wake up today.”

Cassian shrugs and draws his own hand. “He might.”

“You like him.”

“Yes. We’ve discussed this.”

“I guess I just don’t understand.”

Cassian groans, exasperated. “Are we really having this conversation? Fine. He defected. He was terrified. Saw Gerrera tortured him within an inch of his sanity. But he hung in there. I admire that.” If he were anyone but Cassian Andor, Jyn might think he had a shy smile on his face. “Plus, he’s kinda cute.”

Her nose wrinkles involuntarily. “Well, maybe not right now.”

“No,” Cassian looks at Bodhi, still grinning, “even now.”

Jyn scoffs. “He looks like an egg. An overcooked egg.”

“Look at his nose!”

“It’s a nose.”

“It’s a nice nose.”

She rolls her eyes.

There’s an exchange of tongue depressors in her favor, and then she speaks again. “You would actually try for something more with him? You?”

Cassian’s smile is gone, and he looks tired of the conversation. There’s a long pause as they continue playing. “Jyn. I’ve known him for a couple days. I just want a _chance._ Not a guarantee of a relationship.” He wins a hand and takes back half the sticks. “I guess, I just want a shot at being happy. He deserves one too, and if I could be part of it, it would be an honor.”

“I can’t believe Captain Cassian Andor is a romantic at heart.”

He can’t respond because he’s yawning, still tired, even this far into his own healing process, and Jyn gets up with the cards to let him nap. She settles crosslegged on her own bed, content to read a novel on his datapad. 

“Jyn,” he says, easing under his covers. “I think it’s his eyes.”

“They’re huge.”

“Yes, and they’re kind.”

“Go to sleep.”

He does.

Bodhi wakes up in the middle of the night. He makes throaty whines and groans and generally sounds like he’s dying.

Cassian says his name repeatedly until he calms down, breathing heavily. A hand flails in the darkness, groping the air until Cassian catches it, holds it tightly.

“Hey,” rasps Bodhi.

“Hey,” Cassian breathes back.

Chirrut is still snoring loudly, unawakened by the brief commotion. Baze seems to be sleeping soundly too, no doubt used to ignoring his partner’s racket.

Jyn looks at two pairs of hands, held reverently. She folds her own together. She’ll hold her own hand tonight.

They all come to learn that Bodhi is just as nervous as before, but with the addition of a continued chemical withdrawal. He shakes and spasms and begs for drugs the Alliance doesn’t even have access to. Cassian strokes his head through the tremors and tries to distract him with stories. When Bodhi can’t handle it, and the medic has to dispense another sedative, Cassian creeps back to his own bed, red half-crescents raised on his arms and hands. 

“He’ll get better,” Chirrut says calmly. “I can feel his strength.”

Jyn doesn’t see much strength in Bodhi’s emaciated, burnt form, but she trusts Chirrut.

She joins Cassian on Bodhi’s bed during one of his more coherent spells. They deal out the cards and pass around more tongue depressors.

“You ever play cards?” Cassian asks.

“Um. Well, a bit, yeah. Sometimes, the other pilots and I would… we’d play. For real credits, not… flat sticks.”

Jyn shrugs and starts the game. Bodhi predictably loses dramatically for several rounds. He’s down to just two sticks, so Cassian and Jyn each go big with their bets, determined to beat one another. They reveal their cards, excited to claim a victory, but Bodhi comes out of nowhere and trumps them both, raking the tongue depressors to his part of the bed with a grin. They stare at him in wonder.

“We played a lot, actually. I got pretty good. Made a nice disposable income on the side.”

Cassian looks a little turned on, so Jyn snaps him on the top of the head with the deck. They play a few more rounds, and Bodhi wins every time with ease. 

At some point Chirrut and Baze push a bed over to join in. Jyn rounds up a couple more decks.

They try to start easy with a game of Bullshit, but Bodhi can count cards, so it falls apart pretty quickly.

The next game they play is one Jyn learned in prison, giving her the advantage for once. Chirrut keeps laying down cards before Baze can read them to him, so they aren’t much of a threat, and Cassian draws a shitty hand from the start. Despite less experience with the particular game, Bodhi still ekes out a victory, and cards are given up for the time being.

Cassian receives a clean bill of health, and even though he has private quarters on the base, he opts to stay in the room with the others like Jyn. The bonus to his release is that Jyn has a partner to go to the mess hall with, so they can actually find food with flavor. The throng of adoring rebels doesn’t seem so bad with Cassian there to deflect them. Jyn grabs a tray full of exotic Yavin fruits and eats half of it on the walk back.

Entering the medbay feels like coming home. Cassian walks straight to Bodhi, who still looks ill at the sight of food. Chirrut is still content to listen to Baze’s narration of the outdoors, and K-2SO makes a rude comment about a droid struggling down below. 

She feels a sense of comfort, standing and watching them, Cassian looks up and gestures to her. “Come on. Let’s get our asses kicked.”

Bodhi shuffles the cards midair, an actual smile tugging at his lips. He snaps them straight back into a bridge, and she can’t help but laugh.

The Death Star is destroyed the same day Bodhi is released. They’re all free to go now, but they end up clustering into Cassian’s quarters. Chirrut and Baze manage to squeeze on a roll away cot, but Cassian makes Bodhi take the bed. He picks the floor for himself, in a sleeping bag, and Jyn joins him.

They all lay there, together again, thinking about the ending of the planet killer.

“We… we helped them do that,” Bodhi says in awe, staring skyward.

“We could have helped _more_.” Cassian is still bitter. He’d requested permission to return to active duty, but Mon Mothma had repeatedly rejected him, insisting he needed more time to recover.

“You’ve done plenty already, Captain Andor,” she’d said.

Jyn props her head up on her arms, already lying on her stomach. “Well, we _are_ considered heroes now. That’s new.”

Bodhi sits up and pauses to wince. “Heroes. I… I kinda like that, I think.” He looks down at Cassian, a crooked smile on his face.

Jyn elbows her floormate in the side, and he stands, glaring at her, before joining Bodhi on the bed. She stares at them. Cassian runs a light hand through Bodhi’s short hair. He brushes a thumb against the start of facial hair, and Bodhi curls a hesitant hand on Cassian’s knee, slumping into him comfortably. Jyn turns to the cot. Baze is laying in Chirrut’s lap, allowing him to trace hands and fingers across his face, taking it in. 

She feels odd, in the middle here, bridging the gap between the two couples. The atmosphere is off; something is different compared to the medbay. Jyn stands and heads for the door, planning to go outside and get some fresh air.

“Where are you going?” Cassian calls, a trace of worry in his voice.

She pauses, hand over the touchpad. Springs creak as everyone turns in her direction. “Do you…” she asks softly, into the door, “do you all need me?” It’s a strange question. A weak one. She regrets asking it.

“Yes, of course—”

“You know we do—” 

Bodhi and Cassian start to insist. 

“No. No, we don’t.” It’s Baze, in his calm, easygoing tone.

Cassian looks angry, but Chirrut holds up a hand to silence him before gesturing to Baze to continue.

“You can relax, little sister. We won’t fall apart without you.”

It relieves the pressure almost instantly. They are self-sustaining. Not her responsibility. Jyn’s breathing returns to normal. “Okay.” She lets a smile free, then leaves the room, heading for the flight deck. 

It’s peaceful right now. The whole area is basically empty, what with the fleets still returning home from the assault on the Imperial base. She climbs up a ladder to a wide, flat beam. She has a perfect view of the sky and the jungle, and billions of stars glitter far away. Jyn sits and thinks for a while; there’s a certain freedom in her private moment, but she finds that strangely she misses the others. Maybe she’ll invite them here next time.

The Death Star is gone, but the war is still far from over. With this being the case, it seems odd to know that they’re basically already legends. Or at least, as close to legends as five recluses and a droid can be. 

They do end up frequenting Jyn’s flight deck beam. 

Cassian sometimes struggles up the ladder. He still has a limp that won’t completely go away. He says it aches on humid days. Chirrut gives him massages often, rubbing out the tension that builds in his once injured lower back.

Bodhi still has occasional fits. His hands shake and twitch until he has to sit down and take deep breaths. He’ll have times where he loses his train of thought and can’t find it again. It’s hard, watching him struggle, but they all let him find himself on his own. They never prompt him or put words in his mouth, and the pride on his face when he manages to pick it back up makes it worth it. Bodhi never heals from most of the external damage from his burns, but his hair has grown back out, even longer than before, and he keeps it piled in a messy bun on the top of his head.

Chirrut seems to suffer no ill effects besides a badass midriff scar, though Baze still dotes on him anyway. They spar together frequently, since they both run missions for the Alliance, and Chirrut enjoys going shirtless, showing off the pink, jagged mark to impress cadets. Or at least that’s what he says. Jyn gets the feeling it’s also a technique to distract Baze with his abs.

For his part, Baze seems in pretty good condition. He has also gained a limp and a myriad of blaster scars. The burn that covers half his face serves to make him look even more terrifying, but the effect is countered by his increasing displays of affection toward his husband.

K-2SO gets a new body. It’s pieced together from parts of old Alliance droids. He pretends he hates it, but Jyn catches him ogling himself in the reflective hood of a starfighter anyway. She wonders if it adds to his sense of self or if droids even really have that concept.

She leans down to catch Cassian’s hand and help haul him up onto the beam. He wraps her in a sideways hug, before reaching out to Bodhi. The pilot had initially rejected Cassian’s advances, convinced they were misplaced, but Baze had taken him out on a walk to chat, and Bodhi had come back and accepted. 

Jyn isn’t surprised anymore. She remembers how she’d given them their chance to say goodbye before Scarif, opting to head down below to rally the troops while they chatted. She kind of enjoys watching Cassian come out of his shell, drop his guard and allow himself to be happy. He still runs missions on occasion, and Jyn waits nervously with Bodhi for him to return. They have no such fears about Baze and Chirrut. Between one another and the Force, the duo is unstoppable.

Below them, a young boy with a mop of curly brown hair races after his mother. She hops into her A-wing and helps him in with her, letting him sit between her legs as she straps them both in. He claps his hands and grabs at the steering. Their laughter travels up to Jyn, who can’t help but think of her own mother. She wonders if any of the others are too. She lets them lay on one another, comfortable in their closeness. Turning away, she grabs the ladder and climbs higher. They’ll understand. They let her have her private time.

Jyn sits a story above the group, staring off at a particularly bright star, the one Bodhi once confided he pretended was Galen. “Thank you, Papa,” she whispers, for letting her make this new family, and she could swear the star twinkles back.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a personal unwritten law that i called the 1:1 rule, in which i promised to only ever write one fic per fandom. clearly i have now fucked that up and all bets are off. 
> 
> *insert gratuitous abby reference here*
> 
> sh OUTOUT to doyouthinkof for finding my shitty math mist a ke


End file.
